Here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy :)
Dikratsblim- Thanks so much. Yeah, I thought the anime was better as well. I still need to finish the Katrielle game, but I'm finding it hard to find the time. Anyway, hope you enjoy the next chapter.
Djinn - Thanks as always. Yeah, you're right about the puzzles. However, I'll try harder and include more of them. Thanks for reading.
aivenir - Yeah, I thought Edgar and Bonnie would get on together and, as you said, swear a lot. He hasn't completely gotten over Agatha yet and I don't think he will until after the Azran Legacy. Edgar and Emmy sharing a bed will be certainly interesting. They're going to be mature about it, although it will be very awkward. They will also not mention it to anyone. Thanks for reading.
wellingtonlucas282 - Hello, I wasn't expecting you to review this story as well. I'm very glad you did considering that this story doesn't get as much attention as the others. Thank you for reading.
Guest - Thanks so much, I'm glad that you enjoyed it.
Onto the story.
Chapter 2: The Secret Of Norwell
Edgar and Emmy stared at the one bed in their hotel room. Edgar supposed it was big enough for the both of them, but that's not the problem. He had never shared a bed before especially with somebody of the opposite gender. It was somehow worse with the fact that it was with Emmy of all people. He didn't know why he was shy about it, it just seemed…awkward.
Glancing over at her, he could tell that the feelings were mutual.
'Perhaps it's because we're friends…yeah…just friends' Edgar convinced himself.
Other then the bed, the room was comfortable enough with an ensuite bathroom, a writing desk and window looking out on the entrance to the hotel. The wallpaper were golden and there were a few paintings hanging on the wall. Over by the window there was a comfy green chair and an oak coffee table so the residents can enjoy a cup of tea whilst looking at the view. However, they couldn't admire the decor as they should and focused on where they were going to sleep. Emmy coughed and turned to Edgar.
"So…" Emmy started, "Do you think we can ask for another room?"
Edgar shook his head, "Angela had booked these rooms and I doubt we can find another available one, let alone afford one. Maybe we can ask the hotel for a second bed."
"There's no room for a second bed," Emmy said, observing the room.
"Right," Edgar sighed, "What are we going to do?"
Emmy hummed and thought before giving him a confident smirk despite her reddened cheeks, "Let's just share it."
Edgar's eyes widened in surprise, "What really?"
"Of course," she declared, "we're not children. We're mature adults…well I am, I suppose you are a mature teenager…"
"You're nineteen, you're a teenager as well."
"…we're just using it as a place to sleep," she said, ignoring his dry remark, "it's not like we're going to do anything inappropriate."
Edgar thought for a moment before nodding in agreement, "Yeah, plus we're friends, it's not like we're complete strangers."
"Exactly," Emmy eagerly replied, "We also don't have to decide who will take the floor or the chair."
"Yeah...that sounds...good to me."
"And me."
An awkward pause followed as both of them tried not to make eye contact. Emmy cleared a throat again and rubbed the back of her neck uncomfortable while Edgar looked down at the floor.
"So," Emmy said again, "what's your position... in bed?"
Edgar laughed, "Damn, at least buy me dinner first."
She blushed in embarrassment and anger and slapped his arm, "I meant when you're sleeping, you perverted idiot."
"I know, I know," Edgar told her with a grin, "I usually sleep on my right side."
"Good, I sleep on my left. You'll take the right side of the bed and I'll take other."
"Sounds like we're perfect in bed," Edgar said with a smirk.
"Stop it," Emmy warned before turning to her luggage and pulling out a towel, "I'm going to have a shower before we go down to see the Professor. You also better have one after. If we're sharing a bed I don't want it to smell of sweat."
"Fine," Edgar sighed as he hung up his hat and jacket, "we're already starting to sound like an old married couple," he muttered to himself.
"I heard that," Emmy coldly said as she headed into the bathroom. She stopped at the doorway and turned back to Edgar with an uneasy expression, "Can we please not tell the Professor about this."
Edgar gave her an odd look, "Of all the people to tell, the Prof has got to be last."
"Just checking," Emmy said before she closed the door behind her.
Edgar gave a short chuckle and sat down on the chair by the window. It didn't look like the celebration was going to end soon as tourists and other people still crowded the streets. Edgar was glad that the windows were soundproofed otherwise there was no way he would get any sleep.
He decided to close his eyes for a few minutes. Something told him that whatever Layton had to say was important and he needed all the rest he could get.
Layton's Room
Layton opened the door and smiled graciously when he saw his colleagues standing outside. He welcomed them in and led them to table chairs by his large window. As they sat down, he placed two cups of tea before them before pouring himself one.
"Thank you for coming. You two must be exhausted after the long day we've had," Layton said as he sat down.
"It's not a problem, Professor," Emmy happily chirped.
"We're actually more interested in what you have to say," Edgar added.
Layton nodded, "I see. How is your room? I hope there's nothing wrong with it."
Edgar and Emmy shared a look before smiling back at Layton.
"No/nothing," they said at the same time.
Layton gave them an odd look, but decided not to comment. He leaned back in his chair and sighed wearily.
"It would be around eighteen years ago. Randall, Angela, Henry and I all used to live in a small place called Stansbury, just beyond the desert. It was a quiet little village, the kind where everybody knows everyone else. Randall was my best friend. He'd tell me about all his hobbies, drag me along on all his adventures. If not for him, I wouldn't even be an archaeologist. It's true. Although I study it fervently today, I had little interest in the field of archaeology back then."
Edgar had to admit that that was very surprising, especially since he was himself a respectable archaeologist.
Layton took another sip of his tea before he leaned back and told them about the day he first saw the Mask of Chaos.
- Flashback 18 Years Ago -
At the foot of a mountain range, lying on pleasant pasture land, was the village of Stansbury.
It had everything you would likely see in a small village in rural England, a church, squat houses, a market square, a village hall with a clock tower. The people who lived there were welcoming and friendly and enjoyed their lives away from the hustle and bustle of London and the other major cities.
This calm and peaceful village is the home of Hershel Layton where he spent the majority of his youth. It is also where he attended school along with his friends. Stansbury Secondary School was an old red brick building built in the Victorian period. It seemed too big and too grand for a rustic village, but it just meant that there were more facilities for the students to use. One of these facilities was now put to use.
In the fencing hall, two blunt metal swords clashed together and filled the large hall with clinking noises. Two people, both wearing fencing uniforms, fought against each other as they swiped, parried and jabbed each other fiercely. One of the fencers backed the other to his side, making his opponent go on the defensive. He aimed a jab to his upper body so he could receive a point and win the match. However, as he lunged forward his opponent had ducked and aimed a jab at his exposed stomach, winning the match instead. The fencer looked down at the sword pressed against him and hummed in disappointment as he opponent laughed victoriously.
The winner took of his helmet to reveal a youthful face and a smirk. He had short red hair, fair skin and black eyes filled with excitement and wonder. While the loser also took off his helmet and revealed a seventeen year old Hershel Layton. The future professor has not changed that much over the years. He still had his plain features and his small beady eyes, however the most significant change was his bushy afro-like hair that seemed to untamed. The two fighters stood up and held the swords in front of the face to finish the match between them.
"I win again, Hershel," the red haired boy said as he dropped his sword, "Guess that means you'll be going with me tonight," he said, causing his friend to hum reluctantly.
Layton's Room - The Present
"Wait hold it!" Edgar interrupted as he and Emmy tried to suppress a laugh, "What's up with that hair? Is that what you're hiding underneath the hat?"
Layton gave a small smile, "It was quite fashionable back then. However, I do not have it anymore."
"Oh does that mean you're bald under there," Edgar joked, earning a small chuckle from Layton and a dirty look.
"You can obviously see his hair under his hat," Emmy spat irritably.
Edgar shrugged, "He could have hair like a monk."
"If I may," Layton said, remind the two why they were here.
"Sorry," Edgar and Emmy apologies at the same time.
Classroom
The two student had gotten dressed and had left for the next class. Hershel was now wearing a red vest over a white shirt and a green tie and wore a pair of brown trousers. While Randall wore a purple jacket over grey and white stiped shirt. He also wore an orange bandanna around his neck and a pair of thick square glasses. Hershel sat in his seat in the middle column while Randall hovered over him. Randall has been pestering him to join him on another archaeological expedition and no matter how many times he denies him, Randall still insists.
"You cannot be serious," Hershel sighed, giving his best friend a dry look.
"Yes! I'm very serious," Randall enthusiastically said, "I'm going to make archaeological history tonight! Do you have any idea what this could mean? It'll be the find of the century, and you're coming with me!" he declared dramatically, "So, what do you say there, old chum, you're in, right?"
Hershel wanted to deny his request, but Randall leaned into his face and tried to pressure him in.
"Randall," he tried to say, "I don't..." unfortunately the pressure was too much for him, "Okay," he sighed.
Randall leaned away and smiled victoriously, while Hershel shook his head.
'He always does that,' he thought miserably.
"Great!" Randall cried, "This time will be different, Hershel. You won't regret it, I swear. I've got a good feeling about this."
"I've heard that one before, Randall," Hershel remarked, "I don't have time to go on another one of these silly expeditions of yours."
Randall frowned in mild irritation, "I'm telling you this different. It isn't some silly adventure. I think I might be onto something big here."
"Oh really? Do tell."
"Something priceless! Something indescribable! Something beyond your wildest dreams!" Randall excitably said.
Hershel sighed, 'You already described it...twice.'
But before they could continue, their teacher, Mr Collins, walked into the room. Mr Collins was a man in his early forties with with brown hair styled as a large quiff, fair skin, a giant nose and his eyes were hidden behind large circular glasses. He placed a pile of books down on his desk and turned to address the class.
"All right, class. You've proven your legs work. Now please exercise your backsides and be seated," he demanded, causing the other students to take their seats quickly.
Randall also made his way to his seat, but stopped next to Hershel briefly, "Just meet me tonight. Soon our names will be in all the papers. You'll be the famous scholar Hershel Layton," he said before heading to his seat.
Hershel only sighed reluctantly before turning back to Mr Collins' lesson.
"Now that you're all seated," Mr Collins said as he leaned against his desk, "kindly open your books to page 13. Today we'll be talking about Donald Rutledge and his ground breaking work, 'Ancient Histories'," he told everyone before waiting patiently for his students to get the book out of their bags and find the right page.
Hershel glanced at the cover of the hardback book. He hadn't managed to finish the book as he found it rather dull, but he did admire its cover. It depicted an ancient pattern, which looked South American in design, on a red background. Something seemed to take his interested about it. Perhaps because the pattern resembled a human face or mask. It had always caught his attention. He quickly flipped through the pages until he found page 13 and winced when he saw that it was all text and hardly any images.
"Now," Mr Collins continued, "Rutledge investigated a number of noteworthy archaeological sites, looking for similarities between them. He identified the linking factor, the common denominator, the universal, ubiquitous name: 'Azran'. Years later, we've barely scratched the surface of all there is to know about the Azran civilisation and their time. But the discovery of the Azran was a huge breakthrough for archaeology, initiating unprecedented research in the field," he turned to the blackboard where a table was drawn in chalk, "We have here some incomplete records of an excavation from the boom period. Let's see..." he peered through his thick glasses until his eyes fell on Hershel who was staring in boredom at his book, "Layton, can you help fill in the gaps."
Hershel jumped slightly at his name being called out. After he calmed down, he stood up and made his way to the blackboard and looked at the problem before him.
Puzzle Start
The blackboard showed a 4x4 table with the top row labelled A-D with the images of archaeologists that Hershel had read about. The next three rows were much sparser than the top. In the second row and in the second column there was an image of a wooden doll. In the third row and in the last column was a lump of metal. Finally in the bottom row and in the first column, it was labelled 200 cm.
"Right," Mr Collins said, "each of these archaeologists had found a unique object at a different depth in the ruins. Using your notes can you fill in the rest of the information of what each archaeologist had found. In the columns below each archaeologist identify the object in the second row, the material that the object is made of in the third row and at what depth they had uncovered it in the bottom row," he explained.
"Right sir," Hershel said as he picked up his notes and a piece of chalk.
He found his notes on the dig and got to work.
'The first note says that "the doll is made of wooden clay",' he told himself, 'since we already know that archaeologist B has a doll I can put 'wood' in the column below,' he said as he did just that, 'the second note says that "B had dug 100 cm deeper than D and found something at 150 cm deep" this not only means that B dug to 150 cm, but D must have dug to 50 cm,' he thought as he jotted the numbers in their rightful places.
"Well done, Mr Layton," Mr Collins congratulated from the side.
Hershel nodded his head in appreciation before going back to his notes, 'The third note says "An item made of blue-tinged metal was found much deeper than the wooden one" and since we know that the wooden object belongs to B and he found it at 150 cm, the only possible place it could go was with A. He had found his object in 200 cm which is the next deepest measurement,' he quickly noted down the material for A, 'next is "the pot is made of sandy clay" the only space available in the material row is C so that must go there and the note also tells us that C's object is a pot.'
The table was almost completed. He only needed to identify at what depth did C find her object and identify what object A and D had found.
'Let's see, since the depths are going up by 50 cm each time and we know that B's object was at 150 cm and C's at 50cm, the depth must between those two depths. Meaning that C had found her object at 100cm,' he filled in the last spot in the bottom row, 'now the final note says that "the coin was found in a shallower place than the sword" which must mean that because D had found his object in a shallower place, he must have found the coin and, using process of elimination, A must have found the sword.'
He finally finished the table and showed that A had found a sword made out of blue tinged metal at 200cm, B had found a doll made of wood at 150cm, C had found a pot made of sandy clay at 100cm and D had found a coin made of metal at 50cm.
Mr Collins hummed as he checked his answer, "Yes, quite good work, Layton," he stiffly congratulated.
Puzzle Solved
"Thank you sir," Hershel putting down the chalk and headed back to his table, wiping the chalk dust on his fingers on his fingers.
"Right then," Mr Collins continued, "Let's move on to page 14. Rutledge's most famous discovery was the ancient stone circle of Pleynoth. Early theories held that Pleynoth was a primitive holy site, but the finding of some intricate artefacts disproved that. These artefacts were the basis for a fascinating comparative study by the palaeontologist Doris Pompitous. Based on the a wide range of evidence from different fields, Pompitous came up with radically new ideas about this civilisation. She theorised that they were scientifically advanced and had a language as evolved as our own. Furthermore, through extensive fossil analysis, she proved that Earth once had a completely different ecosystem-"
Layton's Room - The Present
"Prof, is there a point to all of this," Edgar sighed, bored with the scientific talk already.
Emmy frowned, "I hate to agree, but perhaps we can skip a lesson you had in your school days," she told him.
"R-right, my apologies. I wasn't aware that I was rambling," he cleared his thought and continued.
Classroom
"Sir! Sir!" Randall called out from his seat, waving his hand in the air eagerly.
Mr Collins looked over, "You have a question, Ascot? Go on, then, out with it."
Randall lowered his hand and grinned, "Sir, have you ever heard of the Mask of Chaos?"
"Are you being imprudent? Of course I've heard of it," Mr Collins sternly answered, "The Mask of Chaos is a mythical treasure documented by Donald Rutledge."
"What's your opinion, sir? Do you think it exists?"
Mr Collins placed the book he was holding on his desk, "I find it hard to believe that such a legendary object could lie undetected for so long. If I thought such things could still be found, I would not be teaching at this school, but out digging for treasure. Even if its existence could be proven, it would be quite impossible to find, and you know it. So I'd appreciate it if you'd stop wasting lesson time with irrelevant questions, Ascot."
Randall slumped in his chair in disappointment, "Right. Sorry sir."
'Randall apologising? That's a first.' Hershel mused.
Forty five minutes later and the bell rung to signify the end of the school day. The students packed up their things and briskly left the classroom to get home as soon as possible. Hershel had slung his bag over his shoulder and jogged over to Randall's side as they were walking out the room.
"What got into you today," Hershel hissed as they walked down the hallway, "pestering Mr Collins about the mask? Is this to do with your treasure hunting expedition?"
Randall smirked at him, "Oho, so you want to know now, do you? You do. Don't deny it, Hersh?"
Hershel rolled his eyes, "No need to be smug. I just wondered why you'd be daft enough to wind up old Crotchety Collins."
The two boys stepped onto the upper levels of the entrance hall and headed to the ornate stairwell. The hall was large enough, but still packed with students either leaving the school building or standing around chatting with others. The two boys had to speak louder so they could hear each other over the noise.
"Hmm..." Randall dramatically pondered, tapping a finger to his chin, "Well, I suppose if you could come over to my house later, I could tell you about it. I mean, if you really want to know, I can't really hide it from you, can I?"
Hershel sighed and shook his head, "Sometimes I think you live on a different planet," he muttered.
Randall laughed at that, "I wish!"
As they need the bottom of the stairs, Randall spotted a fellow student loitering in the hall and waved to him.
"Dalston!" he cried out, making him turn to him and Layton.
Alphonse Dalston was a tall boy with spiky brownish hair, fair skin and a prominent brow rather like a Neanderthals. He wore a green vest, that seemed to small for his barrel-like body, over a white shirt and red trousers. He loomed over the two boys with a small smirk.
"Eh up," Dalston said in a Northern accent, "It's Bratscot and Layton. What rubbish are you two ninnies going on about today?"
Randall gasped dramatically in offence, "It's not rubbish! Even you have to see that archaeology is fun. Or are you too cool for fun?"
Dalston grunted, "What's the point in fun if it's not going to earn cash. I'm setting up my own hotel business and I'm going to make an even bigger fortune than my old man. I bet the only reason you like all that ancient history guff is 'cause it'll get you out of the hole, right?"
"I happen to like this village," Randall countered, "I'll only be leaving to get a degree in archaeology, and there's nowhere better than Gressenheller!" he declared boldly, making Hershel wince at how loud he was being.
"Good," Dalston smirked, "While you're off mincing around London, I'll be building my hotel empire."
Randall laughed as he and Hershel began to walk away, "Not a problem. I'll just use your hotel as a base of operations for my fact-finding expeditions!" he called over his shoulder.
"I'll make sure to charge you extra for it," Dalston called back as the two boys headed outside.
Hershel and Randall walked out the main door and descended the small marble steps onto the courtyard. Randall was about to continue his conversation when a feminine voice caught his attention.
"Mary!"
The two boys looked up at the balcony one the side of school building's wing and saw a young Angela, Randall's girlfriend, leaned over the side, trying to catch a fellow pupil's attention. The sixteen year old Angela looked slightly different from the anxious woman they had met earlier. Her blond hair was much shorter and her expression was bright and cheerful, as the Masked Gentleman will not plague her mind until years later. She wore a white vest over an orange jumper and brown skirt.
"Aren't you going to need your bag for study group tonight!" she called out to somebody on the courtyard.
"Angela!" Randall called out, making the teenager look around before a smile spread across her face.
"Hey Randall! Did you get out of practice early today" she called down.
Randall nodded, "Yes, Hershel and I have some things to do!"
A female student came up behind Angela and they discussed something for a second before she turned back to the two boys, "We're done! Can you two wait a minute while I get my things?"
Judging how she moved away before the two could respond, it was more of a demand than a question and so Hershel and Randall waited patiently for her.
Layton's Room - The Present
"So do you have any...photos of Angela when she was that age or something?" Edgar requested.
Layton frowned in confusion, "I don't believe so. Not on me anyway. Why?"
Before he could answer, Emmy slapped Edgar around the head.
"Stop interrupting him," she demanded through gritted teeth.
Edgar rubbed the back of his head, "What it's important...for the investigation...yeah," he excused.
Layton sighed and decided to continue the story before an argument breaks out between them.
School Courtyard
Angela stepped out of the main door and ran to them with a bright smile on her face.
"So, what have you two been doing today?" she asked.
"Oh nothing," Randall replied, "However, Hershel is still running away from his future in archaeology."
Hershel gave his friend and annoyed look while Angela giggled, "He doesn't look he's running away," Angela observed, "Perhaps he's just not interested."
"Thank you," Hershel told her.
"I think I can change that," Randall said, "I've got something very special to show the two of you," he told them as he began walking to the main gates.
"Ugh, not again," Hershel muttered as they followed him, "What is it now?"
Randall turned back to him with a grin, "The Mask of Chaos," he simply replied.
"Why am I not surprised," Hershel sighed, "What it is about this...fairy tale that has captured your imagination?"
Randall shook his head, "Always the sceptic," he said, making Angela giggle, "That's all right. At least I won today's fencing match. Which means that tonight, we do what I want to do. Correct?"
Hershel smiled and gave him a thumbs up in response.
Randall smiled and somehow skipped behind the two and hung his arms on both of their shoulders, "Eight o'clock, right Hershel?" Angela, you too! To the future that awaits!"
They both laughed joyfully at his declaration before they parted at the main gates. Hershel headed away from the school and walked down cobblestone roads until he had arrived at the Layton household, a small cottage by the river. He took out his housekeys and entered his home.
The Layton residence was a cosy two story building. A living room with comfortable chairs and shelves filled with books to occupy Hershel late into the night. A dining room with oak tables and chairs attached to a kitchen where the sweet smell of a dessert being baked. The walls were filled with photo frames, clocks and other miscellaneous things. It may not seem much, but to Hershel this small cottage meant everything to him and his parents.
Hershel took his shoes off at the door, walked through the living room and into the joint dining room and kitchen. He smiled gently when he saw his mother chopping up an onion in the kitchen and his father sat at the kitchen table.
Lucille Layton was a short elderly woman with grey hair tied in a bun, fair skin and wears a pink sweater and knee length forest free skirt. While Roland Layton was a tall, round man with grey hair and a large beard. He wore a green shirt and brown trousers held up by suspenders.
The two looked up when their son entered the room and greeted him with smiles.
"Hello Ma, Pa," Hershel said.
"Hershel," Lucille chirped as she ran up to him and gave him a hug, "How was school, dear?"
"Fine, thank you. That smells lovely. Are you making a pie for desert?" Hershel asked, the scent lifting his spirits after the long school day."
"Yes, dear," she kindly replied before she sent a stern look at Roland, "I would have made it sooner if you father wasn't making me worry."
Roland sighed as he peered at his wife through his bushy eyebrows, "For the last time, those men were old friends of mine and I only took them to see the Norwell Wall. It's quite hard to find for tourists?"
The Norwell Wall was the name given to an site located at the edge of the village. Archaeologists had found a wall in a large cavern in the cliffs that were inscribed with an ancient language that nobody had seen before. It was quite the discovery and tourists used to flock to the village to catch a glimpse of it. However, by the time the Layton's had moved to the Stansbury a few years back, the tourism had dried up, leaving it the sleepy village that Hershel knew.
"Men?" Hershel questioned, "Who were these men?"
Roland waved a hand dismissively, "I told you, they're old friends of mine. They originally came to see you, actually."
"Really, why?"
"They'd seen you as a baby and were curious to see how you'd grown up," Roland answered, earning a curious hum from Hershel, "now stop worrying, you're just as bad as your mother."
"I wouldn't have to worry if you didn't do stupid things all the time," Lucille argued, firmly making her husband wince slightly at her tone.
Hershel chuckled and headed to his room on the first floor. His parents loved each other dearly, but his mother tended to worry too much and his father was too laid back. Spats between them were very common, but they didn't last for long. He decided to relax a bit before telling them that he was going to see Randall tonight. He assumed he needed all the energy he could get for whatever his friend was planning.
Night had fallen when Hershel walked to Randall's house. Convincing his mother to let him go out at night was met with some difficulty, but he managed to reassure her. The streets were almost empty at night as the residents took shelter from the cold in their homes. The shops were closed, the lampposts emitted a dim light and Hershel almost shouted in fright as a fox darted across the road, no doubt looking for bins to rummage through.
He had just past the school and turned left onto Pebble Lane when he saw a familiar face standing beside one of the old ivy covered brick houses. Dalston seemed to be coming back from somewhere and was admiring the night sky. He stood on a corner of Pebble Lane and the road Hershel needed to take to get to Randall's so there was no way of avoiding the large boy.
'I might as well greet him,' he thought, "Dalston," he called out, trying not to be too loud in case he disturbed the neighbourhood.
Dalston looked down and gave the shorter boy a menacing grin.
"Oi, Layton. Bit late for a stroll."
"I could say the same to you," Hershel shot back, "Do your parents even know you're out?"
Dalston shrugged, "Maybe, maybe not. Who cares? I go where I like, when I like," he said uncaringly, "Hey I just saw Angela go by. You lot aren't having another of your little archaeology parties, are you? I really don't know what Angela sees in that posh brat. His parents aren't even as rich as mine."
"Uh...well..." Hershel stammered, not quite sure how to answer that.
"And what about you, Layton? Aren't you tired of playing along with all Bratscot's potty ideas?"
"I might not care for archaeology, but I do enjoy listening to Randall in full rant," Hershel said with an amused smile.
Dalston grunted, "He's good at talking, that's for sure. Never shuts up. But aren't we getting a bit old for kiddie games?"
"They aren't kiddie adventures," Hershel defended, "Anyway, we're only seventeen."
"We're already seventeen, you mean. Thought you'd have grown out of puzzles and riddles by now. Like this one. How easy is this?"
Puzzle Start
Dalston reached into his trouser pocket and presented Hershel with a ratty sheet of paper. It was crumpled and torn in the top left corner, the middle and the bottom right corner, but Hershel could still manage to read at least a few parts.
It read:
*** + 362 =A
A - 70* 4=B
A + B - 630 * 90 = **
The parts in '*' are numbers, letters, or signs that were unreadable to him.
Dalston smirks as he watches Hershel examine the puzzle.
With an air of self-satisfaction, he says, "Still struggling? But this is the simplest maths problem ever!" he declared.
Hershel gave him a strange look before looking down at the paper once again, 'It looks anything but simple. There's is now way I can figure this one out without the actual figures. There has to be something else I'm missing,' he glanced up at Dalston, 'Dalston may be good at finances, but algebra is not his forte. That must mean he knows something that I don't...something about this paper-'
He stopped when his finger traced along the tear in the paper and inspected it closely. As he inspected it, he couldn't help but feel that they were shaped in a unusual way. He took one final look before smiling triumphantly.
"I believe the answer is fifteen," Hershel deduced, shocking Dalston.
"H-ow did you know that?"
"It's because I was holding it the wrong way round," he explained, turning the paper upside down, "it's quite cleaver how you used the rips to show another secret calculation," he commented.
Now that the paper was upside down, the tears that had been in the bottom right previously resembled the number seventeen. While the tear in the middle looked liked a minus sign and the tear that had been in the top left corner showed the number two.
17 - 2 = 15
Puzzle Solved
"Pff," Dalton bitterly spat as he shoved the paper back into his pocket, "I think Ascot's infected you with his Puzzilitis. You pretend you don't care, but you enjoy it really. You and Angela. I can't afford to get wrapped up in your little games, not if I want to become a successful hotel magnate," he suddenly remembered something, "By the way, I saw that errand boy from the Ascot house carrying two huge shopping bags earlier. Now there's a busy bee, and he's no older than us. You'd never catch me being bossed around like that."
Hershel crossed his arms in front of his chest, "Well, you're not Henry. As long as he's happy with it..."
"Yeah," Dalston interrupted, "Aren't you just the same, though, letting his lordship Count Bratula lead you around by the nose?"
"You sound awfully sour, Dalston. If you want to join us, you should just say," Hershel said with a small smirk before he started to walk down the road that lead to Randall's house, "Anyway, I really should go. See you tomorrow!"
Dalston muttered something bitterly, but Hershel was out of earshot to hear what he said. He decided to just ignore him and continued his journey.
Hershel was approaching the edge of the village where houses were sparser and the road turns from cobblestone to dirt. Randall and his family's estate lived remotely from the rest of the settlement and owned large plots of land, forests and fields. It was a bit of trek and it was made all the more worse with the lack of lampposts, however the bright moon and stars helped to guide his way and light up the countryside.
He heard footsteps running up behind him and turned to see Angela who had now wrapped her shoulders with a blue shawl.
"Oh Hershel," she called out in greeting as she caught up with her friend.
"Angela. Perfect timing."
The two teens began to walk together to Randall's house, admiring the beautiful night.
"Randall seems to be quite single-minded lately," Angela said, breaking the silence between them.
"Yep, that's Randall," Hershel replied with an amused grin, "I think his enthusiasm is one of the reasons I admire him."
Angela sighed sadly and bowed her head, "I suppose."
Hershel noticed this and frowned curiously, "But that passion makes him easily excitable. You know, you're very good for him. You keep him balanced."
"Is 'balanced' the same as 'boring'?" Angela questioned suddenly.
Hershel hesitated slightly, he didn't mean to say it like that and looked away.
"No. Randall's lucky. We've both looking after him," he answered, making Angela perk up slightly.
"Yes," Angela softly said with a small smile, "He is lucky, isn't he? He's got a kind girlfriend who's concerned about his well-being. And a loyal best friend," she said, making Hershel cough bashfully and straighten his tie, "You'll always look out for him, won't you. Hershel? Promise me."
Hershel looked at Angela and saw, that despite her kind smile, how serious she was. He nodded and smiled.
"I promise."
And he truly meant it.
As the continued to venture further into the countryside, a shadowy figure watched them leave.
Ascot Estate
Hershel and Angela sneaked through the large iron gates and kept hidden in the shadows. The white and brown bricked house was large and had three stories, topped with a green roof. Despite the warm light that emitted from the windows, the household seemed cold and austere and defiantly not a place for children.
This was not the first time they had to sneak into the estate. Randall's father was very strict and was reluctant in allowing the hoi polloi into his house, even if they were his son's friends. Hershel can barely remember the last time they used the front door and preferred the more direct approach which included shimmying up the ivy to Randall's room.
Once they had sneaked just outside Randall's window, Hershel found a pebble on the ground and tossed it at it. The pebble clanged against the glass before it dropped to the ground. It didn't take long for Randall to appear and open the window for them.
"Come in," Randall said in a hushed voice before gesturing with his hand.
Angela and Hershel briskly climbed the ivy and Randall helped pull them in. After getting in they noted that Randall's room was still as messy as ever. The large room wasn't as much as a bedroom with various archaeological trinkets, but more of an office in which Randall sleeps in. Shelves lined the walls holding an eclectic number of books and papers, boxes filled with more archaeology stuff, a large wooden desk and a whiteboard that was now covered by a sheet. Hershel shook his head at the state of his room.
'I hope I won't be this disorganised in the future,' he thought to himself.
"Hello Randall," Angela greeted, "we're not late, are we?"
"I've been waiting ages!" Randall declared loudly, "Hershel, did you have to protect my Angie from terrible dangers on the way?"
Layton's Room - The Present
'She can protect herself, you bloody prat,' Edgar thought, 'Honestly, I would make a better boyfriend then him.'
Randall's Room
"I am bound to say that the lady did not require my aid," Hershel replied, "though I would've been glad to provide it, had the need arisen."
Randall laughed, "Oh, come off it. What a gentleman, eh, Angie?," he said with a grin, making Angela roll her eyes playfully.
"Didn't you say you have something to show us?" she questioned.
"Patience, patience," he told them as he headed towards a wooden trunk on the other end of the room.
The two curiously waited as he rummaged through the trunk for a few seconds before he pulled something out of it. He put the object to his face and turned around to reveal that it was a mask.
But it was no ordinary mask.
It was a dark golden colour and shaped like an oval. It had five squares attached the top to imitate the suns rays and and had an eight pointed star attached tot eh forehead. It had two lightly golden arches across the brow to make it look like eyebrows and two eyes and wide grinning mouth was cut out.
Hershel instantly recognised what it was.
"Is that..."
"The Mask of Chaos," Randall finished as he pulled the mask away from his face.
Hershel and Angela stood back in shock, "You mean the real Mask of Chaos!?" Hershel exclaimed.
"The one and only," Randall said with a grin, "The artefact Donald Rutledge wrote of in ancient histories. I finally found it."
Angela frowned in concern, "That's... a fake, right? It must be."
"Absolutely not. This is the genuine article," he said placing it gently on his desk, "According to Rutledge, the myth goes that 'he who holds the Mask of Chaos may have anything he desires'!"
"That's...incredible," Hershel said unsurely, "But it sounds a bit, you know, ominous."
Randall waved a hand dismissively, "Ha, it's just a legend, Hershel. You shouldn't believe everything you read. Still, when I examined the mask, I made an unexpected discovery."
"Something Rutledge didn't mention?" Angela inquired.
"Exactly. The mask does indeed possess an extraordinary power. It holds the key to unimaginable fortune and glory. That is to say, if I can crack the puzzle of the mask, it will lead me to the lost treasure of an ancient civilisation!" he boldly declared, "Well, what do you say? Doesn't it fill you with a thirst for adventure?"
...
...
...
Angela and Hershel shared a look.
"Er...no," Hershel answered, making Randall fall over in despair, "To begin with, we don't even know if that really is the Mask of Chaos. Where did you get it from?"
"Heh, heh!" Randall exclaimed, getting back into the spirit, "Excellent question, my dear Hershel! It wasn't easy! I had to crack a devilish puzzle to get my hands on the mask," he suddenly made his way to the sheet-covered whiteboard and grinned back at them, "Take a look at this!" he declared.
He grabbed the sheet and pulled it off the whiteboard. What was written amazed Hershel and Angela.
"What on earth," Hershel uttered.
Layton's Room - The Present
The clock on the bedside table chimed telling them that it was eleven in the evening.
"Oh dear, it's quite late," Layton murmured before turning back to his assistants with an apologetic smile, "I think we shall pick this up tomorrow night.
Emmy and Edgar groaned like they were children being denied a bedtime story.
"What! You can't end it there," Edgar complained.
"What was written on the whiteboard?" Emmy chimed in.
Layton chuckled, "All in good time. We have an important day tomorrow so we need all the rest we could get."
"Okay," Edgar and Emmy muttered reluctantly.
Layton couldn't help but sweat drop at their actions and briefly revaluate if allowing teenagers on his adventured was an good idea.
Edgar and Emmy's Room
The two assistants had returned to their room, got into their nightwear and tried not to think of what they were going to do. Using the light of the lamp on their bedside table, Edgar was jotting down what they had learned from Layton while Emmy was in the bathroom.
Layton when he was a student, Randall, Young Angela, Layton's parents and, the most important of all, the Mask of Chaos.
'But what does this have to with anything,' Edgar thought, 'how does Randall fit into this? How did the Masked Gentlemen get his hands of the Mask? And what's this ancient civilisation all about?"
Edgar snapped the book shut and placed it on his bedside table, 'Too many questions and not enough answers. I'm not getting anywhere...still I suppose it's nice to hear about the Prof's past. I heard him mention his parents before but I have yet to meet them.'
The light to the bathroom snapped off and Emmy in a yellow pair of pyjamas walked out holding a hairbrush. Edgar tried to not look directly but he did notice how the pyjamas hugged her slim form. She sat on her side of the bed and began brushing the end of her curly brown hair. Edgar had to admit he was in a bit of daze at the sight. It wasn't like she was doing anything seductive or anything she was just brushing her hair, a perfectly normal bedtime routine. There was just something undeniably beautiful about her.
'Beautiful?' he questioned himself, 'Well, I mean she really is. So, what's the problem?' he shook those thoughts away and thought of another topic, 'You know, I don't really know much about her. Maybe I should ask.'
Edgar sat up and cleared his throat, catching her attention.
"Would you like some help doing the...back?" he asked pointing to the longest and most difficult part of her hair.
Emmy blinked in surprise, but gave him the hair brush, "If you don't mind."
Edgar took the brush and gently ran it through her curly hair. She hummed slightly as she felt the bristles straighten out her hair and offered a small at Edgar.
"You're quite good at this," she observed.
"Thanks, I used to brush Agatha's hair before she went to bed," Edgar saw Emmy flinch at that, "sorry, I didn't mean to bring her up."
"I should be the one apologising. Perhaps we can talk about something else."
"Alright," Edgar shrugged, trying to pass off that it didn't bother him, "So, what's your story?"
She gave him an curious look, "How do you mean?"
"I want to know about you past-"
He wasn't able to finish his sentence as Emmy whipped her head around, accidentally hitting him with her hair.
"Why?" she demanded, surprising him slightly.
She didn't seem angry or panicked but more concerned as if he had accidentally stumbled on something he shouldn't have. He held his hand in front of his in defence.
"Because...you know about my past and I don't know anything about yours. Sorry, I was just asking," he answered making her calm slightly.
"Right...sorry..." Emmy uttered as she faced away again, "It's just...nobody has asked me that before...I was just surprised."
"We can talk about something else if you wa-"
"No, no," she hastily said, "Please ask away."
Edgar gave her one final odd look before he started to brush her again, "Well, where did you grow up? Do you have any family? Where did you go to school? Where did you learn martial arts? Just anything really."
Emmy hummed as she thought of the questions, "I grew up in St Albans, but I moved to London when I went to school."
"St Albans," Edgar repeated in surprise, "Never would have thought that. You don't sound like your from the North."
"St Albans is nowhere near the North. It isn't even in the midlands," Emmy pointed out with a small chuckle.
"I'm from London. Anything north of Watford is the North to me," he joked, "but St Albans is nice with its...cathedral. Is your family still living there?"
She hesitated slightly, "...no. I don't have any family. Not anymore."
That was...unexpected.
Edgar didn't really know how to respond to her. He had no idea that she had no family. She had never mentioned it nor even act like she didn't have one. She didn't say anything else, but stared down at the floor and let him continue to brush her long hair. He couldn't see her face, but Edgar could picture how emotionless her expression was.
It was eerie. As if something wasn't quite right in the world.
'I guess it's quite a sensitive subject. I need to turn this conversation around,' he thought to himself.
"I guess...we have something else in common," Edgar stated, earning a small smile from her.
"Yes...I suppose it does," she admitted softly.
Edgar had almost done his brushing when he realised something, "Hey, do you mind teaching me some martial arts? Maybe after this case."
"I thought you already knew how to fight," she countered with a teasing smile.
"There's nothing wrong with expanding my repertoire. I was already thinking of asking the Prof how to sword fight."
Emmy hummed in thought as Edgar had finally finished. She turned to him and tucked her legs under the duvet.
"Alright then," she agreed as she took back her hairbrush and shot him a glare, "but under one condition. The next time you meet Angela or any woman, you cannot flirt with them."
Edgar laughed which only hardened her glare. He eventually calmed down and looked at her stern expression.
"Oh, you're serious."
"Of course I'm serious," she angrily said, "Why do you do it anyway?"
"Because I can."
She gave him a dry look.
"Seriously, that's the answer. What shouldn't I flirt with any woman I see."
"Because most of them are married."
"I prefer older women. I can't help it," he simply said with a shrug.
Emmy sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose in irritation.
"Look, I like flirting and that's what makes me me. I respect women like any decent human being should and I know my boundaries. I would stop if the woman told me to or I can see that they're uncomfortable. If I had a girlfriend, I wouldn't do it at all. However, since I am sans girlfriend and no woman has ever stopped me in the past, I don't feel obliged to change my habit. I mean the only person who has a problem with it is you."
Emmy continued her glare before she bashfully turned away, not letting him see her warm cheeks.
"Besides," Edgar continued, "I think flirting can actually be useful."
"Oh really," she replied, raising a single eyebrow.
"Yeah, you can get information out of people when you're interviewing them. So in a way," he gave her a teasing smile, "the more I flirt the closer I get to winning the £100."
"In your dreams, pig," Emmy said with a competitive smile.
The two slid under the covers and Edgar turned off his lamp, plunging the room into darkness. They faced away from each other, staring into the nothingness.
"Emmy," Edgar called out, not looking over his shoulder at her.
"Yes," she replied after a while.
"I promise I won't flirt with Angela anymore."
...
...
...
"...thank you," she softly replied, "good night."
"Good night."
Omake
Victor Soul had only just finished the last line of his story when he heard a knock on his office door. He lifts an eyebrow curiously at the sound and petted the black and white elderly cat on his desk.
"Come in."
The door swung open and Edgar steps in, a half smile plastered on his face.
"Hey, it's your favourite OC."
Victor sighed, "Hello, Edgar. For the last time I do not have a favourite OC. I love all my OCs equally."
"Sure you do," he snarked, taking a seat on his writing desk casually, "So, I read the script for the latest chapter. Great work by the way."
"Thank you."
"However," he drawled, "I can't but notice you cut a lot out of the original story. Especially the part with the Prof's old man," he said, scratching the cat underneath her chin.
Victor leaned back in his chair and gave an uneasy smile, "Yeah, I just thought it was convenient, you know."
"Indeed," Edgar sighed, "a convenient excuse to be lazy."
Hey!" Victor shouted in offence, "I wasn't being lazy. I just thought that our readers don't want me to regurgitate every piece of dialogue in the original chapter. Especially since he had nothing to do with the story, besides I added my own contribution at the beginning and at the end."
Edgar inspected his nails uncaringly, "Of course, we wouldn't to bore all your followers on this story..."
"Oh not again," Victor groaned.
"...all 19 of our followers..."
"Can we please not do this now."
"...while the other stories have far, far more," he finished with a hard glare.
"Look," Victor firmly said, glaring back at him, "It's not my fault that the other franchises are more popular than yours. There's no stopping the Pokemon franchise, the My Hero Academia fanbase is very..."
"Toxic," Edgar suggested.
"...large. I was going to say large," Victor corrected him with a glare, "and people just like the Fairy Tail franchise. It doesn't help that you franchise ended a few years ago."
"So has Fairy Tail's," Edgar argued, "which you haven't finished yet."
Victor pressed the tips of his index fingers together guiltily, "I get too emotionally attached to the characters and I get upset when something bad happens," he muttered with a pout.
Edgar rolled his eyes and jumped down from the desk, "Fine. You win this one. Well, it's not as if you could lose considering you did write this entire argument and everything I say," he muttered bitterly, "I suppose I should be thankful for the followers I have and for the people who favourited this story."
"You should also be thankful for the people who take the time to review the story," Victor pointed out.
"Don't worry I am," Edgar said with a lazy wave before heading to the door, "One thing I'm not thankful for is this weird extra scene you decided to write at the end of this chapter."
"I think it's great," Victor angrily said, "it's also quite inventive."
"Oh yes," Edgar slyly called out over his shoulder, "breaking the fourth wall, very avant garde."
"Shut up!"
"Eat your heart out James Joyce, Victor Soul is going to take the world by storm with a thing that most people have already done in their stories, even though they did it way better," he teased as he walked out the room.
"One more out of you and I'll take away your harem!" Victor shouted before Edgar closed the door behind him.
Victor sighed and petted the cat's head, "That's the last time I make an OC with his personality," he told himself.
And cut!
Sorry for the wait. I've been under a lot of stress lately because my cat had to get surgery to remove her right eye. She's really old, so they weren't quite sure if she would survive the procedure. However, she's fine now (I swear that creature will out live me) and she had been blind in that eye for ten years so she's not missing anything. Writing this chapter has really put much mind of it, so I'm really glad.
Anyway, thanks for reading the latest chapter, I hope you enjoyed it. I was thinking of splitting the next original chapter into two because it's quite long.
I'll see you next time.
Thanks :)
